Tale's From Edwin's Book of Snark
by JanetBanana
Summary: Snarky Ed narrates this series of stories. First up: Lizzie and Edwin's junior prom. Pummelman, Paul, and parenting. Lizwin.


HAPPY BIRTHDAY STEPHANIE! This fic is a birthday present for Steph, a.k.a. Jannikajade.

Disclaimer: checks nope, still not mine. unfortunately, I am still broke, and still in need of a hot boy like Michael Seater. Too bad.

A/N: This is a one-shot narrated by Edwin. I thought the boy needed a little love. When I sat down to write this, it was intended to be a Christmas fic. However, this little ficlet just hit me. Entitled "Tales from" because more may follow if inspiration so hits. Which it might because Edwin is so easy to narrate from! This story feels rather OOC, just a warning. So here you are, I hope you like it!

_**Tales from Edwin's Book of Snark **_

**_The Prom Fiasco_**

I started dating my stepsister when we started high school. We always spent a lot of time together anyway, and it's not like our family to notice anything unusual. Actually, it's not like our family to notice anything, period. We have this closet that no one finds it strange if we spend time in it. What does that tell you about them, anyway? We kept it a secret, which, if you can't tell, wasn't hard to do.

It wasn't until mine and Lizzie's junior prom that the rest of the world became informed. It was pretty funny actually. While the senior prom is held at some schmancy hotel, the junior prom is held in the school gym. Lizzie and I were making out in the janitors closet. This was typical behavior for us. We had the same free period and we always spent it there. We'd figured out which closet was unused during that time of the day.

What we didn't count on, however, was Teddy. It was all his fault, you see. He'd spiked the punch. Not that I'm a bit surprised by this. Some super lightweight had had one spiked cup, and thrown up on the floor. Our closet du jour that night had been the one nearest the gym. That one right there was our fault. Mrs. Pummelman came to grab a mop and bucket and there we were, attached at the lips, and a lot of other places too, to be honest. She'd dragged us out of that closet _by our ears_, and down to the office to call our parents.

When Dad and Nora showed up ten minutes later, they were surprisingly pleasant to the two of us. Mrs. Pummelman said to them, "I caught your _children_ making out with _each other_. I'm sure you'll agree that this is terrible behavior and so I shall leave you to decide the best course of action. Well?"

"What makes you so sure we'll agree that it's terrible behavior?" Nora asked.

"They're _your_ children. Child_ren_. They both belong to you. Don't you see the problem?"

"No. Edwin belongs to me. Lizzie belongs to Nora. They were never adopted. It wouldn't have been fair to Abby and Dennis. This isn't Quebec, they can't be charged with a crime. We'd been placing bets on when they would get together. It's just so obvious."

Obvious? This from the man who didn't realize that our new puppy had chewed a hole in his right shoe. The one he was currently wearing! Who was he kidding with that, anyway?

Then again, the puppy _was _given to Lizzie and I as a joint gift for Christmas. Not to the whole family, but just to us. Maybe they were a little more observant than I thought.

"Well actually George, we've been together for two and a half years."

"What? You mean we both lost the bet?"

"Well I can see that the two of you are loopy, if you are more concerned about losing a bet than that your children are dating. Hell, you're loopy if you're betting on when they'll get together. I suppose I should call a social worker."

"Well actually, Mrs. Pummelman, there are plenty of reasons why you shouldn't," Lizzie said smugly. "You see, as George—that's George, by the way, not Dad—pointed out, stepsiblings are legally allowed to marry here in Ontario. Ergo, they are also allowed to date. Secondly, if you think we should have a counselor of some sort involved, you lose again. The guidance counselor here at our school, Paul Greeby, already sees Edwin and I whenever we feel the need to talk about it. He supports us. He's here right now if you would like to talk to him about all this. I mean honestly, if you're so squicked by the idea of two people being in love with each other just because their parents got married when they were ten, then you probably _should_ see a counselor. Now if you will excuse us, Edwin and I didn't get all dressed up to hide in an office with you. We are going to go dance at our prom. Because this _is_ prom, and we should be on the dance floor, not in an office because we were kissing. At prom. I think we're done here." Yes, ladies and gentlemen, that is _my_ girlfriend. She really kicks ass, doesn't she?

Mrs. Pummelman attempted to protest, but she got shot down one final time, by Nora. "Mrs. Pummelman, you're right about one thing. These _are_ our children. Not yours. So it is up to us to decide who they are allowed to date. And I happen to think that Edwin is a fine, upstanding young man with a bright future. Isn't that the kind of person you would want your daughter to find? Moreover, it's hard enough to find a good mate these days. She's fortunate that she found one that she knows is good. Now, I realize when these teenagers are put under your care, as a teacher, there are times when you feel the need to punish them. But what falls under your jurisdiction is showing up late to class, breaking the dress code, or finding illegal substances on them. You cannot, however, punish them for this. So I thank you for your concern, but I think it's best you do your job and let us do ours. Edwin, Lizzie, you two go dance, and Georgie and I will go back to our date that we were unnecessarily interrupted from. Good day, Mrs. Pummelman." You know, Nora kind of kicks ass, too.

On our way back to the gym we saw Paul, who was wondering where Mrs. Pummelman was. She'd never come back with that mop and bucket, after all. We told him the story.

"…and so mom told her deciding who we were allowed to date wasn't her job,"

"and to stick it where the sun don't shine." I finished for her.

"She didn't say _that_. She wasn't obnoxious about it, just firm. Paul, our parents are in full and complete support of us. I had no idea."

"I had no idea they were making bets on us!" I supplied, causing Paul to chuckle.

"Well I'm glad they do. Not make bets, mind you, but support you. Considering what I used to hear from Casey, and now from the two of you, sometimes I've actually considered involving some authorities, but you all are above all, really happy to be in the situation your parents have you in so I let it slide. I'll go talk to Mrs. Pummelman. _You_ guys should get out there and dance. Together."

"You wanna?" I asked her. I wasn't too worried about our classmates reaction. As many things as I looked up to Derek for, being Mr. Popular wasn't exactly one of them. Lizzie, I knew, would worry. Not because she was so concerned with popularity, but she'd started a social climb in an effort to get more kids on the green side with her. I respect that. Most people social climb for themselves. Lizzie did it for the environment. That's pretty cool. So far she'd been really successful. I wasn't sure she'd risk giving it all up for this.

"Hells yeah!" she exclaimed. I think the shock of our parents little performance in there sort of rubbed off on her and she wasn't fully considering the consequences. Oh well, I always enjoyed a 'consequences be damned' attitude.

So we did. Some of the kids stood in groups with shocked expressions on their faces, gossiping. But a good portion of them also giggled that we'd finally admitted something they'd been whispering to each other about for years. Because the kids at school tend to be a tad more observant than our parents. Our close friends were supportive. All in all it was pretty fun. And I'd like to think we sure as hell had Derek and Casey beat when it came to a story for the grandkids. Casey might call their prom a fairy tale, but mine and Lizzie's had action. It had women standing up for themselves, not needing a man to rescue them. Best of all, it had Lizzie and me as the stars, not some lame hockey star and overly romanticized drama queen.

And we lived happily ever after, or at least until Derek and Casey came home from college for the summer and the drama started up again. So that was what, two weeks?


End file.
